The whispers followed her wherever she went – it seemed at times that she couldn't escape the pitying looks, or the scathing remarks. It drove her slightly mad. Idly she wondered if this was how Harry had felt growing up, under the scrutiny of the public eye. Dismissing her thought process, she walked briskly through the halls of the Ministry of Magic, focused on finding her office.

"Hermione!" she heard a familiar voice call out. Her step faltered for a second, but she continued moving forward, keeping her chin held high; she hadn't done anything wrong, after all. Ron's voice blended into the background noise as she escaped into the silence of her office. Once inside, she closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath trying to forget the images that flashed before her eyes.

"I can fix it!" Ron pleaded with her as she stood holding onto her wand too tightly – tight enough to snap it in two. "Please, Hermione! Please let me fix this," Ron repeated, almost maniacally. He reached for her, but she slapped his hand away. Hurt flashed in his blue eyes. Remorse embraced her senses. She felt like she was suffocating and looked away, trying to avoid his pain.

She looked down at the newspaper lying on the table in front of her, and anger replaced her grief. The picture was too damning and reminded her of what she'd lost – a future. A husband. Her life. Images flashed before her of children she would never have. She would never feel the soft swell of her stomach, full of life; ready to bear the child of the man she loved.

"How?" Hermione screamed suddenly. Ron flinched. Hermione picked up her copy of the Daily Prophet and threw it across the room in a rage; the newspaper scattered all around the room like a reminder of their broken lives.

"She's pregnant," she said flatly.

"I know. But…we can make an arrangement. I can support the child. I can still be a father to it, and a husband to you."

She laughed bitterly. "You're an idiot," she said. "Do you think Parkinson will be satisfied with having you as a part time father to her chit."

"I…there's…no other way. And I can't lose you. I love you."

"Did you love me when you were between her legs?" she replied. Ron looked away, embarrassed.

Hermione glared at him, her anger radiating in waves at his lack of response. "I can't do this, Ron. I can't share you."

"Don't make me choose, Hermione. Please. I won't."

"Then don't!"

"You're late," Draco muttered as soon as she walked into their shared office, breaking her reverie. Scathing words were on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed her words instead, just like her emotions. It was too exhausting to be on the defense all the time and Hermione was tired of caring.

"What's on the agenda for today?" she asked instead. She walked across the room to the desk right across from his and set about gathering her files from the previous day.

When she'd begun working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she'd had a different partner and the desks had been arranged so that they'd face each other. "It's much easier to work like this," Genevieve had said. At the time it had made sense. Their office was more like a cupboard, and this was the only way to fit two desks, bookshelves, and filing cabinets into the cramped space.

When Genevieve was promoted to the Head of the Spirit Division, Hermione didn't realize they had hired her replacement before her seat became cold. She barely had a minute to miss the other woman before Draco Malfoy walked through the door. It had seemed like a cosmic joke.

"Well…this is going to be awkward," Draco had said the minute he stepped into their office.

Hermione had been too shocked to say anything. Instead, she got up and walked out. She considered going home without telling her boss, or anyone else for that matter. Instead, she had locked herself in the ladies loo, and cried. She sobbed as she acknowledged the pain that Ron and Pansy had caused. She tearfully thought about Draco Malfoy sitting at her office, trying to process the fairness of life. He'd been the bane of her existence at Hogwarts; called her Mudblood; and been tortured at his home. The fact that they were the jilted lovers, the laughingstock of the wizarding world: comrades in painful affairs of the heart – The irony wasn't lost on Hermione. Once she'd calmed down, Hermione washed her face with some cold water and went back to her office to face her new co-worker. They avoided talking to each other the rest of that day.

The next day when she walked in, Draco had already been sitting at his desk, looking busy, or at least pretending to look busy. But she saw the embarrassment that stained his cheeks, and the nervousness shaking in his hands. It gave her a moment's to pause, and reflect that, perhaps, their shared hatred for their former flames would keep them from killing each other. Slowly, she moved across the floor, and sat across from him, not able to meet his eye just yet. He coughed, clearing his throat. She swallowed nervousness she didn't know was there. The silence stretched for an infinite moment, bonding them in a shared pain that both wanted to forget.

"Listen…" he began. "Do we need to talk about this? If we can't work together, then…I'll resign. It's only fair. You were here first. It's not like I need the money." She bristled at his reply, scorn flashing in her eyes. Draco looked away nervously, knocking over a stack of parchments.

Hermione stared sullenly at the wood grain of her desk as he picked up his mess, considering the offer carefully. Fair. She almost scoffed out loud at the word. Life was anything but fair. She was tempted to demand he leave her sanctuary, but knew that Draco was trying to repent for his sins. Really, they'd both been victims.

"No. That won't be necessary," she answered. "I'm sure we can both be grownups about it. We left Hogwarts several years ago."

"I…" He appeared flustered for a second. "I didn't mean the times I was cruel to you at Hogwarts, though, I do apologize for that." Hermione stared at him before nodding in acceptance.

Neither one of them mentioned the elephants in the room again.

Some days it was torture to pretend life was fine. It wasn't. She hated everyone who treated her like it was. It had been ten months since her life changed drastically and she felt like hexing everyone who told her it was time to move on. Hermione was sure the only reason Ginny didn't come after her for hexing Harry was because she agreed with her, even if they weren't on speaking terms anymore. Hermione hadn't realized that losing Ron also meant losing the Weasleys. In retrospect, it made sense, given the events of fourth year, when Mrs. Weasley had believed all the lies printed about her. The thing about the Weasleys was that they were loyal to a fault…to their own.

Turning to look at her co-worker with his head bent over parchment, scribbling madly, Hermione thought that it was a bitch to wake up and realize the only person who understood what you were going through was sitting right across from you in a cramped and stuffy office, and yet seemed a world apart.

"Fuck this," Draco said suddenly. He got up, and cast a long sideways look at Hermione. "Want to go get ice cream?" Her first instinct was to refuse, but it had been stifling hot lately and Cooling Charms were wearing out faster than normal. Hermione had been futilely trying to work, but was beginning to feel the effects of the heat. She could really use the break.

"Sure."

They walked in silence towards the Floo, too hot to bother with idle conversation, and waited patiently for their turn. If they got a couple of odd looks, neither one let it bother them; they'd done this walk several times before. She couldn't remember when they began having lunch together – it must have been two or three months after he began working with her. One day they both got up at the same time, walked to the elevator, took the same lift down to the Floo, giving each other odd looks until Draco said: "Stop following me, Granger. Or are you channeling Potter?" Then she'd laughed at the absurdity that she would stalk him like Harry did in sixth year. He'd laughed too. They had looked like escapees from Ward 49 standing in the middle of the Atrium having a giggle fit. Hermione wouldn't go so far as to say that they were friends, but their relationship as co-workers was easy. It truly had surprised her how easy it was to work with Draco. Intellectually, they were almost on the same level, and he was able to keep up with all her thought processes.

"You know," Draco began once it was their turn at the Floo. "I'm kind of hungry. Would you like to eat lunch instead?" Hermione nodded lazily in return, the oppressive heat dulling her thoughts.

"Right, ladies first." He motioned for her to step into the Floo, climbed in after her, and called out 'The Leaky Cauldron' for their destination.

As soon as they stepped out of the Floo and into the Leaky Cauldron, Draco looked for a table for them to sit. He chose one towards the back, where no one would bother them and where they could blend into the shadows in case a reporter walked by. When Hermione took a seat, Draco promptly waved over a waitress to take their orders.

Considering they hadn't exchanged many words on their way out, Hermione didn't find the continuing silence between them to be overbearing or uncomfortable though she shouldn't have been shocked. Working with Draco over the past couple of months had been surprising, to say the least. They spent hours in quiet companionship at their office. Sometimes they'd turn on the WWN and listen to the sounds of the Weird Sisters. Sometimes, they'd debate the pros and cons of the laws that protected magical creatures. Sometimes, they were still the teenagers at Hogwarts full of arrogance and intellectual condescension.

However, today, Draco fiddled with his napkin and cleared his throat every couple of minutes. For her part, Hermione tapped the table in a quick rhythm, brimming with impatience.

Their food was delivered shortly after and they'd only been eating for five minutes, when Draco put his cutlery down.

"I saw them yesterday," he said without preamble.

Hermione didn't need to ask who 'them' were, she already knew. "Oh."

Draco looked her in the eye for a split second, before fixing his gaze elsewhere.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No. It's okay."

"Is it?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, though she wasn't too sure herself. They'd made an unspoken agreement to never talk about Ron and Pansy, but here he was bringing it up at the most awkward time.

Draco turned and locked eyes with her, giving her a measured stare. Suddenly, he appeared to be much older than his age. Rubbing his face in frustration, he straightened in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand.

"Some days it's just difficult to move on."

Hermione nodded numbly, thinking that she'd only been thinking that moments before, and then replied: "I know."

"It's been a year since she left me for the Weasel," Draco continued.

Hermione stared, not quite sure what to say. Then, to her horror, she said: "At least you didn't marry Pansy."

Draco stared at her in disbelief at her slip up, mouth hanging open like a gaping fish. She covered her face with her hands, embarrassed that she said that aloud. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that!"

Then Draco laughed. Hermione was torn between laughing and frowning at his reaction. After a minute of inner turmoil, Hermione gave in and laughed as well. When they finally sobered up, Hermione could feel her cheeks flushed with amusement, and Draco's eyes were twinkling with laughter.

"I can't believe you said that." He smirked at her embarrassment.

"Neither can I," she replied.

They finished their meal quietly, feeling lighter and happier for the first time in months. As they made their way back to the fireplace, Draco grabbed her arm all of a sudden. "Do you fancy getting that ice cream now?" Hermione considered the oppressive heat waiting for them back at their office.

"Yes, I do."

"You know, Granger, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Draco teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and linked her arm through his. "I highly doubt it, Ferret."

"Look, Know-It-All…" Draco began as he led her through the brick wall and into Diagon Alley.